


Camaraderie and Bravery

by Willowe



Series: automaton!AU [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Other, automaton Hamilton, how many cliches can we fit into one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowe/pseuds/Willowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander doesn't know by what means he is capable of feeling emotions, but surely whatever system is in place must be flawed. The affection he feels for Laurens is inappropriate at best, damnable at worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camaraderie and Bravery

**Author's Note:**

> The overwhelming response to "Should I write automaton!AU Lams?" was YES, so here's the first Lams installment in this series! This is absolutely canon within this series... but if Lams isn't your thing, you can probably skip this (and future Lams stories) without missing too much.
> 
> As always we're following the musical timeline here, with Alexander having met Burr (and by extension Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan) in 1776. That puts over a year between "Ev'ry Burden, Ev'ry Disadvantage" and this fic.

By the time Washington calls for a halt for the night, Alexander is the closest to actually feeling exhausted that he's ever been. Physically, he's perfectly capable of marching for many more miles yet, which can't be said of most of the men around him. But still, he is desperately hoping that Washington doesn't require his services for more than a few hours; he's honestly not sure if he could handle a long night of writing at the moment.

Laurens, it seems, is of a similar mindset. "There shouldn't be too much correspondence to handle, not in the middle of a march like this," he says optimistically as he helps Alexander set up their tent. "With any luck, we'll be snug inside our tent before the snow actually starts falling."

"I certainly hope so," Alexander grumbles as he finishes securing his side of the canvas. "Though I hope more that the snow holds off until we reach Valley Forge."

Laurens glances up at the darkening sky, grey with the threat of snow, and sighs. "As do I, my dear Hamilton, but that does not look likely. Still, it would make the rest of our march easier if we did not have to fight against freshly fallen snow." His mouth twitched with amusement as he adds, "Though, I could always let you break the trail while I follow easily behind."

"Another day like today and I fear even I would begin to struggle with the long marches," Alexander admits. "Apparently, even automatons like myself have their limits."

Laurens chuckles. "Even I could have told you that, Hamilton. Just because you can push yourself harder does not mean you are without limits."

"Yes, well, let us hope that my strength will hold out until we reach Valley Forge," Alexander says. "There are already far too many men falling ill on this march. Washington cannot afford to lose another of his aides."

"Especially not his most valuable," Laurens says. His tone is teasing, but his words are completely serious.

"Only for the volume of work I can complete," Alexander responds. He knows that Washington values him for other reasons, for the occasional insights he can provide and his aptitude for organizing details and making plans. But he's still uncomfortable with his position as the General's so-called 'right-hand man' being common talk around the camp, especially when the rest of the aides- save for Laurens- resent him for rising above them.

Laurens sighs and shakes his head, saying, "One day, Alexander, I will manage to convince you of your worth."

The words are spoken warmly, the use of Hamilton's given name gentle, almost sweet, and even though Alexander is incapable of flushing he still ducks his head to avoid looking at Laurens. He doesn't know by what means he is capable of feeling emotions, but surely whatever system is in place must be flawed. The affection he feels for Laurens is inappropriate at best, damnable at worst.

Alexander is not afraid of damnation- why would he be, when it is doubtful that he should reach any afterlife at all when he ceases to function? But he knows that Laurens is more devout than he is; even if his friend should return these affections, Laurens will never act on his feelings. Of this, Alexander is certain.

So Alexander must do his best to make sure that he is never leading Laurens on, so Laurens must never choose between what his faith tells him is wrong and what his heart may desire.

"I know my worth, my dear Laurens," Alexander retorts as he ducks inside the tent to stash his pack- mostly, admittedly, to avoid looking at his friend as he speaks. "But I also hold no illusions about my status. I will always be valued for what I can do that real humans cannot. Perhaps, if after the war I am successful in advancing my station, that will change. But today, I remain merely an automaton."

" _Merely_. You are so much more than that, my friend."

Alexander freezes; the words are spoken so quietly that he can't be sure whether Laurens intended for him to hear them or not. Should he acknowledge them, try to play them off with a joke and quickly turn the conversation to new topics? Alexander is not sure he can do that, not even sure if he's capable of saying anything to Laurens without giving himself away entirely.

In the end, the point is moot; when Alexander emerges from the tent Laurens smiles at him and claps him on the back, saying, "Come, we must report to the General. The sooner we finish his work, the sooner we can return and rest!"

Washington's tent is crawling with his aides-de-camp, ferrying messages back and forth between Washington and his commanders spread out across the army's encampment for the night. When he sees Laurens and Hamilton he immediately dismisses the aide he was talking to and beckons them over; the aide shoots them both a dirty look as he brushes past.

Laurens' was correct in his suspicions that there was not much work to be done, however what little there was to do was mostly matters that Alexander himself needs to complete. Laurens' helps as much as he is able to, copying orders to be delivered to the high-ranking officers and drafting a response to the Governor of Pennsylvania, but the letters to Congress are the latest in a rather drawn-out exchange, and those Alexander handles himself.

It's only in private, with not even Laurens present, that Washington provides Hamilton with the latest intelligence information that they've received. He dutifully copies every piece of information into the small journal that resides, quite literally, inside his person at all times, before tucking the volume back inside the hidden compartment in his chest.

Laurens looks up when Alexander reemerges, but wisely doesn't ask any questions about what Hamilton was discussing with Washington. "The orders are copied, and I finished drafting the letter to the Governor," he says instead, holding out a sheaf of papers to Alexander. "Read it, and I will make the necessary changes while you finish the last of your work."

Alexander scans the document once quickly, before going back through and crossing sections out with his pen and making notes in the margins. He pauses before handing the papers back, and hesitantly says, "I am, as always, perfectly willing to hear your counterarguments to my edits. However, given our mutual tiredness, perhaps this time...?"

Laurens chuckles and snatches the papers from him. "I do believe we can forego the usual debates, in favor of finishing the work sooner."

_Sooner_ , however, is not synonymous with _immediately_ ; Laurens and Alexander still, somehow, end up being the last of the aides at work. The two men rarely speak while working, save to get a quick opinion from the other, but the scratching of their twin quills, the shuffling of paper, the sound of John's breathing- it's a comfortable sort of quiet, easy and companionable. All too simple for Alexander to lose himself in the familiar- the _familial_ \- feelings of this moment.

He's saved tonight by a late arrival, Lafayette himself walking into the tent long after everyone else has left for the night.

"Bonjour, Général!" Alexander greets. "If you are looking for His Excellency, I'm afraid General Washington left some time ago."

"And left his trusted aides-de-camp behind to finish the work, I see," Lafayette says with a laugh. "Non, mes amis, this is a social visit."

He sets a covered bowl down next to Laurens- stew, still hot judging from the steam rising from the bowl. "I had a feeling that you had yet to eat, Monsieur Laurens, so I took the liberty of raiding your rations to bring you food." He sets a bundle down on the desk and wraps it to reveal several hearty chunks of bread and a bottle of wine. "Along with some of my own contributions."

Laurens laughs and tugs the bowl of stew closer. "What's mine is yours, you know that, Lafayette. Especially when the results are a meal like this."

"I am glad that my efforts are appreciated. And Monsieur Hamilton, do not think that I forgot about you." He sets two new bottles of whale oil down on the desk. "I managed to acquire these for you, mon ami. Take care with them. I do not know what our chances are of acquiring more this winter."

Laurens reaches forward and takes one of the pieces of bread. "Oil may be easier to buy outright than some of the other supplies that the army needs, though," he points out around a mouthful of food.

"You may very well be correct on that count, my friend," Lafayette says grimly. "Have you heard the reports coming in from the enlisted troops?"

Alexander nods. "Food supplies remain much the same as they have been, but the men are not prepared to weather the winter. Coats are too thin, shoes are falling apart on the march... They say you can track the movements of the army simply by following the trail of bloody footprints."

"My God," Laurens murmurs.

"Frostbite has already proven to be a greater problem than we anticipated," Lafayette adds. "Even with Washington's plans to build huts at Valley Forge, if the winter remains this brutal we are going to lose too many good men, whether to the cold or to disease."

"Then let us hope that this next letter to Congress finally succeeds in swaying their minds," Alexander says as he finishes writing the letter and pushes the papers away. "But come now, it is far too late for such depressing conversations. Lafayette, have you heard from Mulligan recently?"

"Very little, besides what he sends in code to the General," Lafayette says, but he immediately begins recounting what little personal news he's heard from their friend back in New York.

Between Laurens and Lafayette they finish most of the bottle of wine while the friends talk. "One more drink, to get you through the cold night," Lafayette says as he hands the bottle back to Laurens. "Then, I am afraid I must depart. Are you two done working?"

"For tonight, yes," Alexander says. Tomorrow will bring more work with it, but for now Alexander is very much looking forward to a rest. Perhaps he will even take some of his oil, in preparation for tomorrow's march.

"Then both of you should return to your tent, and not linger here any longer," Lafayette says. "It is bitterly cold tonight, and you would do well to not remain outside any longer than necessary."

"We have no intention of doing so," Laurens assures him. "Tonight is an evening of rest for everyone, including Hamilton."

"Well, then at least something good will come from today's march," Lafayette teases. "But for now, I take my leave. I will see you on the morrow, mes amis!"

"We should take our leave as well," Laurens says as he puts his papers in order and stands up. "Before I find myself too frozen to move!"

The camp is quiet as they make their way back to their tent, as most of their compatriots are smart enough to seek what shelter they can from the cold. "Is this winter truly worse than in previous years?" Alexander asks as they walk.

"It certainly won't be an easy winter," Laurens says. "It is fortunate that the heavy snows have so far held off, but there is no denying that it will almost definitely be deadly cold." He glances over at Alexander and, quietly, asks, "It never got this cold in the Caribbean, did it?"

Alexander hesitates for a moment; he hates talking about his life on Nevis, and he hates even more talking about his own private functions. But if there is anyone he feels comfortable confiding in it would be John Laurens. So, rather than giving the simple answer of _no_ , he finds himself confessing, "I don't believe so, but I... I'm afraid I would not know. I can't feel physical sensations."

Laurens stops abruptly, and turns to face Alexander. "You can't feel physical sensations?" he repeats, incredulously. " _Any_ physical sensations?"

Alexander shakes his head. "Temperature, pain... even someone's touch. None of it registers."

"But... well, you've been with women..." Laurens says, with no small amount of confusion.

"I still feel an emotional connection during relations with women," Alexander tells him. "And I am told that my partners are appreciative of my... dedicated attentions."

Laurens coughs, a faint blush spreading across his face. "I am sure that they are," he says mildly, much to Alexander's amusement.

"Indeed, although I have been told if I ever fail as someone's bed-warmer I can, at least, be assured of the job of quite literally warming their bed," Alexander jokes as he nudges Laurens to resume walking. After a moment without a response, he glances over at his friend and sees outright confusion on his face.

"I have been informed that my body has somewhat of a higher temperature than humans," he explains. "I am sure there is some gallows humor to be found there, that the automaton who cannot feel the cold has enough heat to spare, while too many good men will be freezing in their tents tonight."

"Hardly the worst gallows humor I've heard since the beginning of the war," Laurens tells him as they finally reach their tent. The canvas walls of their tent block out the wind, but Laurens is still shivering as they climb into their separate bedrolls; evidently canvas is not enough to keep out all of the chill.

"Take my extra blanket," Hamilton says, passing the blanket over to Laurens. "God knows I won't be needing it tonight, but I imagine you will."

Laurens murmurs a thanks, taking the blanket and wrapping it around him as he burrows deeper under his covers, trying to conserve what little heat he can. Alexander can feel his eyes watching his movements as he carefully stows away the bottles of whale oil that Lafayette gave him, and pulls out the bottle that he already has open.

He's just finished taking a swig of the oil, and is carefully tucking the bottle back inside his pack, when Laurens finally speaks. "Do you feel anything, when you drink your oil?" he asks, his voice soft in the darkness of the tent.

It truly is a testament to their friendship, and the depths of Alexander's feelings for Laurens, that he doesn't even hesitate before answering truthfully. "I do not know. Sometimes I imagine that I can feel a spark of- of _something_ , deep in my core. But if that sensation is real, it fades away far too quickly for my liking."

"I can't imagine what it would be like to live without feeling anything. Not to say that I pity you," he adds quickly. "Far from it. The fact that you have adapted to life in a human society where so many of our actions are predicated on things we feel... I do not know if I could do it."

"You could," Alexander says without hesitation. "If you have known no other way of life, if your options are limited to _adapt_ or _remain an outsider_ , possibly putting your life in jeopardy to do so, you would find a way to adjust."

"I suppose." Laurens shifts under his blankets; Alexander does not miss the shiver that his friend tries his best to hide. "Although on a night such as this there is no denying that you have the advantage, my friend!"

Only now does Alexander pause, weighing his words and his options before saying, "If you are still cold, you are welcome to share my bedroll tonight. If- if you want, that is."

Laurens goes silent and still as Alexander talks, and for a moment Hamilton fears that he overstepped some boundary. He knows the enlisted men often share beds during the coldest of nights, but perhaps even Laurens feels uneasy at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with an automaton.

Just when Alexander reaches this conclusion and decides that the best course of action would be to politely retract his offer, before he offends his friend even further, Laurens says, "If you do not mind the company, I would be thankful to share your bedroll tonight."

Alexander does not trust himself to speak, doesn't trust himself to not reveal the depths of his feelings for Laurens if he says anything now. So he simply lifts up the edge of his own blanket and Laurens slides over, dragging his own pile of blankets with him.

Alexander helps him get the blankets situated and Laurens finally settles down with a comfortable sigh. "You certainly are very warm," he says, unconsciously curling in closer to Alexander. "I cannot believe I haven't noticed this about you before."

"My temperature isn't so much higher than yours is, except in cases like this," Alexander says softly. He wants to reach out and wrap his arms around Laurens, hold the other man close to him against the cold of the night, but he doesn't even dare move for fear of driving his friend away.

"Mm, well, it is certainly a welcome difference tonight," Laurens murmurs. He shifts so he's even closer to Alexander, his head tucked so it's practically nuzzling against Alexander's neck. Without thinking, Alexander reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair away from Laurens's face. His friend sighs contentedly and it takes every ounce of willpower that Alexander possesses to remove his hand from where it's cupping Laurens' face.

God, give him the strength to resist this most welcome of tortures!

Laurens is dozing next to him, not quite asleep, Alexander can tell that, but neither men speak for several long minutes. "Have the effects of your dose of oil hit you yet?" Laurens finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he's afraid of disturbing Alexander.

"No," Alexander responds. "Why do you ask?"

"I want to ask you something else," Laurens tells him. "You have been remarkably patient with my queries so far, but I did not wish to push your boundaries by asking questions while you were impaired."

Alexander chuckles. "The oil does not work the same as your alcohol does. I will become lethargic, but I will still retain all of my wits until I lose consciousness for several hours."

"Oh."

Laurens does not say anything else and, after a minute, Alexander ventures, "Laurens? Didn't you wish to ask me something?"

"Yes, but... well, I'm afraid it's rather personal." Laurens finally pulls away from Alexander slightly, who only barely stops himself from protesting at the movement. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my prying..."

"If I don't want to answer, I'll tell you," Alexander assures him. But he knows that there's nothing Laurens could ask of him that he wouldn't do his best to answer, no matter what the question may be.

Still, Laurens is quiet for long enough that Alexander begins to wonder if his friend is ever going to ask him the question that is clearly burning at him. He's just thinking that perhaps he should speak up again when Laurens asks, so softly that Alexander almost misses, "Have you ever loved anyone?"

Alexander goes very still, his mind almost blank from shock. Laurens seems to realize that he's made a mistake and he's quick to clarify. "I know you feel emotions, I do not mean to insinuate otherwise. But have you ever fallen in love with someone? Not the love you feel for your family or your friends, but the deep affection you feel for that person whom you wish to spend the rest of your days with?"

"Yes," Alexander admits, before he can even think of lying, of deflecting the question and changing the conversation. "Yes, I... I have."

"What does it feel like?" Laurens asks. "Without the feeling of blood flushing your face, your heart racing and your palms sweating?"

There is no maliciousness in Laurens' questions, nothing to even suggest that he doubts Alexander's claims at having felt love, and Alexander only pauses to search for the words to explain his feelings. When he finally speaks he can't bring himself to look at Laurens; he knows that there is no way he will be able to keep this secret if he has to face the man he loves while he speaks.

"It crept up on me slowly. It seems like one day they were nothing more than a dear friend, and the next I couldn't bear the thought of even a single day apart from them." Alexander stares up at the roof of their tent, as if he's whispering his confession to the darkness of the night instead of to the person to whom these sentiments are directed.

"I would find myself doing anything I could to make them happy- little things, that I could pass off as being a sign of affection between friends, save for the fact that I always put more consideration into these seemingly casual actions than anything else in my day. If I was in a foul mood, just talking to them for a few moments was enough to completely brighten my mood.

"But then there was one day when I saw them with a group of friends. I was going to join them, but then they laughed and it stopped me in my tracks." Alexander smiles at the memory of seeing Laurens in conversation with Lafayette and Mulligan, the way he had to squint against the sun that was in his eyes when he turned to look at Mulligan, how he threw his head back and laughed with his whole body.

"I remember thinking that I had never seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life," Alexander admits softly. "And from that day, I couldn't stop noticing all the beautiful details of them that I had been blind to before."

Like the freckles on his face, too numerous to count. The way his hair would come free of its tie, small curls breaking loose to frame his face. That light that he'd get in his eyes when he was excited, or angry, or extremely passionate about something. The ink smudges he always had around his fingertips, or the way he'd bite his lips while he was working on a particularly difficult letter. The bounce he had in his steps when he was particularly exuberant about something.

"Do they know about your affections?" Laurens asks quietly.

Alexander shakes his head. "No. A relationship between us would be..." Amoral. "...impossible."

"How do you know that unless you speak to this person? You always assume that because you are not human no one will ever want to associate with you, but that isn't true!" Laurens says heatedly. Alexander knows if he were to look over at his friend now he would see that glint in his eyes. "Anyone would be lucky to have you, Alexander."

Alexander closes his eyes. If only Laurens knew the pain his words caused him...

A gentle hand touches Alexander's shoulder. His eyes fly open and he looks over at Laurens, who's watching him with no small amount of concern. "I hope my words did not hurt you, my friend," he says gently. "I meant no offense by my sentiments."

So it would seem that Laurens did pick up on his distress after all. Alexander is filled with even more fondness for this man than he thought possible. "No offense is taken, my dear Laurens," Alexander assures him.

"Then why are you upset?" Laurens asks. "And please, do not tell me that you are not. I know you well enough by now to know that something is bothering you. Are you missing this love of yours?"

Alexander shakes his head. How can his miss his love when Laurens is lying next to him, closer than they've ever been? "Your efforts to cheer me up are admirable, but I know they will never return my sentiments," Alexander says. "It has nothing to do with me being an automaton, it is simply an- an impossibility."

"But why? If you have not spoken to them of your feelings-"

"Laurens, please, let this go," Alexander begs.

"But I do not understand-"

"Because they are a man, Laurens!" Alexander snaps, his patience worn thin. "Because even if they could love an automaton like me, they would be damned for doing so!"

There is silence in the tent. Alexander can't bring himself to look at Laurens, can't bear to see the disgust and revulsion on his friend's face. He knows that he's shaking but he doesn't know if it's from anger or fear or the deep, indescribable heartache at the realization that he has almost certainly ruined his friendship with Laurens.

"If you wish to leave and return to your bedroll, I understand," Alexander whispers when he can take the silence no longer. He thinks the heart that he doesn't have will shatter when Laurens leaves, but he has to give his friend this out.

"No! No, I- I don't wish to leave," Laurens says quickly. Too quickly. It's insincere, and Alexander didn't think that Laurens could hurt him more than he already has but oh, how wrong he was.

Alexander takes a deep, shuddering breath. If his friendship with Laurens is already doomed to go up in flames, what harm is there in fanning the fire? "I need to be honest with you, Laurens," he says hoarsely. "I- I may have had ulterior motives in asking you to join me tonight..."

"Hamilton..."

"I know that you did not ask for my affections, and I am sorry for misleading you about my feelings," Alexander says miserably. "I- I do consider you a dear friend, Laurens, but I understand if you cannot say the same after this..."

"Alexander!"

The use of his given name gets Alexander's attention and he glances warily over at Laurens. He's expecting to see the other man in a state of anger, but he's surprised instead to see Laurens stifling a laugh. "My dear, sweet idiot," he says, with far more affection than Alexander is expecting. "I told you that anyone would be lucky to have you. I was not excluding myself from that pool."

Alexander stares at him in shock. His mouth is working but no words are coming out. He understand perfectly what his friend is implying, but his mind does not seem to be able to process it in any way that makes sense.

Then, Laurens does laugh- and leans over to kiss Alexander.

The kiss is chaste, a gentle brushing of lips that Alexander cannot feel but he jolts at the surprise of the contact anyway. Laurens pulls away immediately, a thin hint of worry in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" he begins.

Alexander shakes his head, grabbing on to the front of Laurens' shirt before his friend can even think of pulling away. "Don't apologize," he says. "Just do that again."

And Laurens obliges. He leans back in and this time Alexander meets him halfway, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Laurens sighs and Alexander presses towards him, deepening the kiss, taking more and more- as much as Laurens will let him. For a split-second he thinks he feels something, deep inside his chest, where his oil sometimes sparks upon first consuming. He moans softly, and Laurens shudders where he's pressed close against him.

When they pull apart, Laurens is breathing heavily, his face flushed, his pupils dilated. Alexander wonders what he looks like, if there's any outward sign of how visibly affected he is by this as well. Laurens reaches out with a gentle hand and brushes a stray strand of hair away from Alexander's face, and the automaton can't help but laugh.

"What's so amusing?" Laurens asks with a fond smile.

"You," Alexander replies. "This. I- I never thought I would ever have this- ever have _you_..."

"The sentiment is shared, my dear Hamilton," Laurens tells him. "I didn't know if you were interested in anyone, let alone men- let alone _me_." He laughs, a bit more wild than Alexander's was, and adds, "If I am to be damned for loving you, then I will happily spend the rest of my days with you."

For one of the first times in his life, words fail Alexander. He presses a gentle kiss to Laurens' forehead and says, "I would love nothing more than to have you by my side, for however many days we have."

 

**Author's Note:**

> IRL history has Laurens joining Washington's aides-de-camp around August/September of 1777. The winter at Valley Forge was from 1777-78. It's not impossible for Hamilton and Laurens to have developed feelings by then, but I've stretched out the timeline to fit not only with the musical but to account for the events of "Wrote My Way to Revolution" and "Dying is Easy (Living is Harder)".
> 
> As for historical attitudes towards same-sex relationships, my research has been minimal and I've kept Hamilton's concerns focused more on the religious implications on purpose to avoid writing too much misinformation. And honestly the legal punishments for same-sex relationships that were found out are far less interesting to me than the ramifications of automaton!Hamilton having a relationship with anyone, male or female.


End file.
